


Iridescence

by tookumade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Graduation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tookumade/pseuds/tookumade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did Lev manage to bring out these sides of him, like taking him apart at the seams? Yaku supposes that Lev always did have an odd sort of pull, like gravity, but he never expected Lev to have <i>this</i> sort of effect on him. No one else he's ever met makes his heart beat this hard, in a way that’s so different from the adrenaline rushes he feels whilst standing on a volleyball court. No one else makes him feel this warm and confused and happy and nervous and slightly terrified all at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iridescence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aetherdrive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aetherdrive/gifts).



> Me: I'll write a cute, short fic and give it to Aetherdrive in time for his birthday.  
> Fic: _LMAO U THOUGHT_

Yaku _really_ isn’t sure when it happened, because he swears Lev fell into his life very suddenly, like something he couldn’t really find the right words for—a whirlwind, perhaps; a firework; a burst of sound amongst the calm and quiet—and more or less declared that he was here to stay. Yaku supposes this means that it was less of a _bang!_ and more of a very gradual slope, so gradual that he didn’t see it coming. Bewilderment upon meeting Lev, exasperation, continued exasperation, _even more exasperation,_ training and training and training, yelling and occasional kicking, bursts of pride whenever something went right, learning about each other, and–  
  
He was really going to miss him once he graduated.  
  
It’s about two months from the end of Yaku’s third year and Yaku is lying in his bed, tossing a volleyball up and down restlessly, when he realises this. The thought of Lev not being around every day suddenly seemed like a very strange concept. What were things like before they met? He honestly couldn’t really remember…  
  
What he _does_ remember, what he _does_ think about, is that stupidly bright (and endearing, he admits to himself reluctantly) cheeky grin; his light-hearted teasing about Yaku’s height which sometimes preceded praise about Yaku’s libero skills in the same breath; that unfaltering belief in him; that near-boundless energy; spiking Kenma’s tosses in a way that sometimes left people breathless, even if they had seen them plenty of times before; bouncing over to sit next to Yaku, jostling him with elbows and knees, a warm weight…  
  
“I think I might… _like_ Lev. As something other than teammates or… or friends,” Yaku quietly admits into the straw of his juice box one lunchtime. Kuroo responds by choking on a mouthful of rice from his bento. Kai looks serene as ever, raising his eyebrows slightly as he thumps Kuroo on the back.  
  
“You’re realising that _now?_ ” Kuroo splutters once he has calmed down. Yaku stares at him. “Only _now?_ Jeez, you’re one of the sharpest volleyball players I’ve ever met, but when it comes to this kind of thing–”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Yaku demands. Kuroo just gives Kai a helpless sort of look.  
  
“We all kind of saw this coming,” Kai says slowly. “Ages ago.”  
  
“What? _How?_ ”  
  
“It was just…” Kuroo begins, pauses, then shrugs helplessly, “a progress? Something you both fell into? I don’t know about the others, but one day, I just looked at you two walking ahead of me when we were all going to get snacks after practice, and I thought, ‘hey, that really works’.”  
  
“It was kind of the same with me,” says Kai with a nod. “I noticed that, well… you’re pretty calm and composed about most things, but when it comes to Lev, you sort of… come alive a little more.”  
  
“You flip out more,” says Kuroo unhelpfully. Yaku throws his melon bread wrapper at him, which Kuroo smacks away with his chopsticks and an indignant little “ _Oi!_ ”.  
  
“Do you think you’ll tell him?” Kai asks, swiftly confiscating the rubbish. Yaku takes a loud sip of his juice box and stares at a spot on the ground in front of him.  
  
“I don’t know,” he says. “I haven’t really thought about that. It just occurred to me last night that I probably _like_ -like him, and I don’t really know what to do.”  
  
“Why not tell him?” asks Kuroo, and the simplicity of it makes Yaku glare at him. “I’m serious. What, do you think Lev won’t feel the same way?”  
  
To Yaku’s dismay, this makes his face heat up as he splutters, “Wh– I-I don’t– I’m–”  
  
“That… That really didn’t occur to you,” Kuroo whispers. “ _Oh my god._ ”  
  
“Give that back, Kai.”  
  
“Don’t throw rubbish, Yaku.” Kai gently swats his hand away when Yaku tries to reclaim his melon bread wrapper. “And Kuroo’s right; it’s something you could think about.”  
  
“ _Definitely_ think about it, man. You never considered the possibility that Lev might like you back?” says Kuroo.  
  
“ _Possibility_ ,” Yaku repeats, crushing up his empty juice box with one hand and staring back down at the ground. “That’s not exactly reassuring, Kuroo.”  
  
Silence from his friends makes him look up uncertainly. They’re staring at him in thoughtful understanding, and part of him hates how easy it is for them to read him, how they’ve always been so damn good at it.  
  
(Another part of him appreciates them more than he’ll ever admit; he has a feeling they already know this too.)  
  
“You’re worried,” says Kuroo, how looking at him earnestly. “You’re… scared?” Yaku just scowls a little.  
  
“We’ve never known you to be the scared type,” says Kai quietly. “What’s up?”  
  
Yaku flicks at the corner of his crumpled juice box restlessly as he tries to collect his thoughts. He makes a discontent noise and says slowly, “We’re not going to be at Nekoma for much longer. Everything just feels like a big jump, and this whole thing with Lev isn’t helping. I guess I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed.”  
  
“The demon senpai is human after all,” says Kuroo fondly. Kai nudges him but can’t hide a little smile. Yaku rolls his eyes.  
  
“It’s normal to feel overwhelmed, you know,” says Kai. “I know I am.”  
  
“Same,” says Kuroo. “I’m kinda scared about graduating, too.”  
  
“Yeah, but neither of you have a stupid crush on Lev.” Yaku leans against the wall with a groan. “Feelings are so troublesome.”  
  
“You know, you originally said that about Lev too,” says Kuroo, grinning. “Look at you now.”  
  
“Why do I tell you guys _anything?_ ” says Yaku as Kai snickers. But he can’t quite hide a smile either. They all fall into an amicable silence for a moment before Yaku looks up and squints at Kuroo and says, “I really didn’t think about whether he might like me back or not. What do you think?”  
  
Kuroo purses his lips a little in thought. “I don’t know. With you, it was a bit more obvious, but it’s harder to tell with Lev; he’s kind of the same around everyone, you know? I guess that’s not what you really want to hear but…” He shrugs. “Honestly though, he’s not really the type to get it unless you tell him, so that’s something to think about.”  
  
“Kai?”  
  
“I’m with Kuroo,” says Kai. “Telling him might be the best option to take, but in the end it’s up to you.”  
  
Yaku tilts his head back against the wall and looks up at the sky with a little sigh. “I guess…”  
  
The end-of-lunch bell rings soon after, and Kuroo takes the opportunity to snatch the confiscated melon bread wrapper from Kai and throw it at Yaku, who manages to swat it away easily thanks to his well-honed reflexes.  
  
“Don’t think about it too much,” says Kuroo. “This isn’t a volleyball game.”  
  
“No,” Yaku agrees as they begin to stand and collect their things, “it’d be much easier if it was.”

 

* * *

 

The two months between then and graduation seems to speed by faster than Yaku would like.  
  
He and his friends could be found studying diligently every day or fighting through their finals, occasionally taking breaks from studying by helping their juniors train in volleyball. The chance to stretch and run around was always welcome, but as he watches Kai score a point with his spikes or Kuroo making a killer block, Yaku wonders whether this might just an excuse—whether they, like him, were in fact simply clinging onto this bit of their high school days slipping away before them.  
  
(Probably. They could read him like an open book, but he could read them just as well.)  
  
Nothing has changed between him and Lev, at least outwardly as far as he can tell. Lev seems a little preoccupied these days, though; he’s a little quieter than normal (“I never thought I’d see the day,” Kuroo mutters), and throws himself into volleyball practice with even more fervour. He sasses back less and seems to absorb more information, to the point where even Kenma has less criticism to throw at him than usual.  
  
“Hey, Lev, are you okay?” Yaku asks as he joins him by the wall of the gymnasium during a drink break, right before he and the other third years prepare to head back into the library to study for their next English exam.  
  
“Nngh-hnn-hn,” Lev mumbles into the spout of his water bottle, staring at the court in front of them.  
  
“Lev.”  
  
“Uh, sorry Yaku-san… I’m fine! Just… studies, you know?”  
  
“Do I ever.” Yaku pauses. “Wait, you actually study?”  
  
“That’s mean, Yaku-san!”  
  
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”  
  
Yaku leans against the wall and slides down until he is sitting beside him. Lev seems to stiffen, but Yaku isn’t sure whether that was just his imagination—he had stiffened too.  
  
They sit in silence for a moment as they watch their teammates from a distance. Yaku supposes he’s meant to be giving Lev some sort of volleyball advice like he always used to in the past—lately, more and more frequently, Kuroo’s been attempting to drill some tips into the second years’ heads, to varying degrees of success—but nothing comes to mind. Perhaps somewhat selfishly, Yaku just wants this quietness, this moment of sharing a space between just the two of them. After all, he doesn’t have a lot of time left to do this again.  
  
“Yaku-san?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Are you going to visit us when you’ve graduated?”  
  
Yaku drums his fingers against the side of his water bottle restlessly. He hasn’t really thought about it—he had been avoiding thinking too much about life after high school.  
  
“I guess it depends on my uni schedule,” says Yaku dully.  
  
“Oh,” says Lev. And then, quietly after a pause, “I’d like it if you visited us.”  
  
Yaku looks at him. Lev is still staring hard at the volleyball court, and it doesn’t escape Yaku’s attention that during this whole exchange—even throughout today’s entire training session, he thinks—Lev hasn’t looked him in the eye once.  
  
He doesn’t try to change this.  
  
“I… I guess we’ll see,” he says.  
  
“Oh,” says Lev. “Yeah. Okay.”  
  
They sit in an odd sort of silence for a little while longer. All sorts of words are fighting to form in Yaku’s throat— _make sure you listen to Kenma next year okay, don’t give him too much trouble, don’t drive Nekomata-sensei and Naoi-sensei up the wall either, don’t overdo things (I like you), remember not to keep your arms too far apart when you block, work carefully with Shibayama, look after yourself (I like you), concentrate on your studies and on training (I like you), look after your juniors (I like you), I’ll miss you a lot, I like you_ —but…  
  
His fingers go still against his water bottle.  
  
_We’ve never known you to be the scared type._  
  
“Lev–”  
  
“LEEEEEV!” Yamamoto hollers, and they both jump a mile. “COME ON, BREAK’S OVER, WE’RE DOING A LAP AROUND THE SCHOOL!”  
  
“Crap! _On my way!_ ” Lev hurriedly takes one more sip of water. “Uh, was there something you wanted to say, Yaku-san?”  
  
“Oh… no, nothing.” Yaku’s heart is pounding uncomfortably hard against his chest and his words whither away in his throat. “Go ahead.”  
  
“See you later, Yaku-san!”  
  
“Right,” says Yaku. He watches Lev jump to his feet and dash towards the others. “Right…”  
  
He is running out of time, but he still says nothing.

 

* * *

 

Exams are over, and their graduation ceremony day quickly arrives. The ceremony hall is full of proud parents and crying and an almost suffocating feeling of wistfulness and nostalgia that Yaku tries not to think too much about. He is amongst the last of the graduating students to walk onto the stage to collect his certificate and the wait for his name to be called out feels like days, though listening to Kuroo receive some of the loudest cheers and whistles from the other otherwise-respectful and mostly-rule-abiding students makes Yaku grin.  
  
After the ceremony is over, many of the students mile around the ceremony hall. Yaku, Kuroo, and Kai are surrounded by their juniors from the volleyball club. Kenma and Kuroo are off to the side a little, talking quietly amongst themselves with Kuroo looking like he’s barely holding it together despite his attempt at his usual calm swagger; Yamamoto is already sobbing, and Yaku finds himself unsurprised; Inuoka is energetically promising Kai that they’ll make the seniors proud; Fukunaga is nodding silently beside him. Shibayama looks ready to start crying too as he looks Yaku in the eye and utters something about looking after the team as their libero; Yaku feels he definitely wouldn’t be able to handle anything more either as pride bursts in his chest, so he pats his shoulder and gives him words of encouragement until Shibayama’s eyes clear up.  
  
Lev is unusually quiet again, standing beside Yaku with his fingers twisting together restlessly. As Yaku tucks his certificate under his arm and slips his hands in his pockets and watches Kai attempt to calm Yamamoto down, his and Lev’s elbows touch, and it takes Yaku everything he has not to jolt away.  
  
The fact that Lev doesn’t pull away either stays with him, all the way until the teachers ask all the students to leave the ceremony hall. That feeling of wistfulness and nostalgia gets heavier and heavier as they step closer towards the exit.  
  
Yaku and Lev still don’t say anything to each other.

 

* * *

 

Between then and the last few days before Yaku farewells Nekoma High forever, there are no confessions, no mentions of Lev’s role in the volleyball team, nothing about the gap that Yaku leaves with his departure.  
  
It is only after the last day when Yaku gets home and flops onto his bed that he realises he and Lev never actually said goodbye to each other, either. Yaku isn’t sure what to make of this.

 

* * *

 

Months go by.  
  
Yaku and Kuroo attend the same university campus doing different courses, while Kai is only a few train stops away. During their time there, Yaku and Kuroo had briefly discussed finding and renting a shared apartment together, but Kai, upon hearing this suggestion, had laughed until he cried for a solid four minutes and they quickly abandoned the idea after reluctantly realising that he had a point; though Kuroo and Yaku were good friends and got along well these days, they had the sort of friendship where they would probably end up kicking each other’s asses if cooped up together for too long.  
  
And so, Yaku continued living at home, taking the bus to and from university which was still convenient as long as he didn’t think too much about how uncomfortable and smelly it was every day.  
  
Taking the bus also means that he often has time to stare out the windows and get lost in his own thoughts. The scenery would flash by, and he is constantly reminded of days he had left behind: that park he and his friends sometimes took shortcuts through to get to the library; that convenience store where he, Kuroo, and Kai often went to for snacks after volleyball practice; that burger place whose owners utterly adored Lev and gave them all extra fries whenever they went to eat with him; that small shrine where several stray cats lazed around every day until Lev walks past in the morning, at which point at least three would get up to follow him (it’s always Lev) all the way to school; that sports store where they usually went to buy their volleyball equipment, and that time Lev bought his first pair of volleyball shoes and the excitement that lit up his face when he pulled them on for the first time…  
  
Yaku almost misses his stop a few times.

 

* * *

 

He tries dating a few times during university—a coffee date here and there, a cheap dinner when he has time, the occasional movie outing—but nothing ever really goes anywhere. Between studying and working on assignments and throwing hours into training with the university’s volleyball team, Yaku doesn’t have a lot of time for a relationship, but every now and then he catches himself wondering how much of this was just an excuse, how much he actually didn’t _want_ a relationship with the people he met during his time at this campus, no matter how nice the other person was.  
  
He also often catches himself wondering how Lev is doing. It happens more often than he would like.  
  
He hasn’t seen him since high school—never made the trip over to Nekoma High, even though it’s only a few minutes walk from his house. Kuroo and Kai sometimes visit their former juniors, and they tell Yaku stories when he sees them (“The first years have Yamamoto completely wrapped around their little fingers,” says Kuroo, grinning over a bowl of ramen. “It’s _hilarious_ , but it’s obvious they all really look up to him.”), and he is tempted to join them each time, but…  
  
“Lev asked about you,” Kai says when he and Yaku had caught up for lunch one weekend and were sitting on the bench and waiting for Kai’s bus at the bus stop. “He asked how you were.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I told him you were doing well, volleyball-wise.”  
  
“Volleyball-wise,” Yaku repeats.  
  
“I told him you were already your university team’s benchwarmer libero despite being just a first year. He didn’t look surprised at all. You know, ‘ _as expected of Yaku-san!_ ’—that sort of thing.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
They fall into silence for a moment. But Kai often has a way of pulling words from people without doing a single thing, and it’s not long before Yaku sighs and rubs his face with his hands.  
  
“I still like him. I think about him a lot. I still haven’t told him anything,” he groans.  
  
“Relax,” says Kai with a little smile. “I’m not here to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do.”  
  
“No, but I can almost _hear_ your thoughts, you know? It’s like telepathy.” Yaku gives him an accusing look. “You’ve got to teach me how to do that, someday.”  
  
“That’s my secret skill.”  
  
“Figures.” Yaku scuffs his foot against the ground restlessly. “How is he doing?”  
  
“Lev? Pretty good. His receives have actually improved _a lot_. I think…” Kai pauses with a touch of hesitation. “I think he’s finally getting used to the fact that you aren’t guarding his back anymore.”  
  
Yaku frowns. “But Shibayama–”  
  
“Shibayama’s doing great as a libero, and he’ll only continue to improve, but this isn’t about him,” says Kai. “I think you underestimate the sort of impact you had on the court, you know. The… sort of impact you had on _Lev_ on the court.”  
  
Yaku looks like he wants to argue, but just opens and closes his mouth again, and Kai adds quietly, “You know what I’m talking about.”  
  
“Maybe I do,” says Yaku. “But you know, I’ve been thinking… I’m not usually the type to hesitate over something so much–”  
  
“Feelings make us do weird things, sometimes.”  
  
“But what if I… _don’t_ actually like him? What if I’m hesitating because I don’t actually want a relationship with him, and it’s just residue panic from graduating from high school?”  
  
“You’re in uni and you’re nearly done with your _second semester_ , Yaku.”  
  
“ _Work with me here, Kai._ ”  
  
The bus is sight. Kai fishes his wallet from his bag and pulls out his pass.  
  
“I can’t tell you how to feel about it, you know that,” he says. “But do you remember Kuroo telling you not to think about it too much?”  
  
“Urgh.”  
  
Kai gives him a slight grin as they stand and the bus approaches. “And you know he’s got a point. Why not see Lev once more and then figure out things from there? Maybe your feelings have changed a bit, but maybe things will be clearer once you guys are actually meeting face-to-face.”  
  
“That’s… well, maybe. ”  
  
The bus stops in front of them and Kai turns to Yaku and says, “If you ever want to tell him how you feel, you know where to find him.”  
  
Yaku sighs. “I know.”  
  
“See you soon, okay?”  
  
“Yeah, definitely.”  
  
With that, Kai boards, the door closes, and they wave to each other through the windows before the bus pulls away. Yaku stays at the bus stop long after it has left.

 

* * *

 

Yaku doesn’t see Lev right away (‘ _Don’t think about it too much_ ’—it sounds increasingly mocking whenever he does think about this, which _is_ often, and none of the irony escapes him), but it does happen in his last year of university—from a distance.  
  
He’s running a little late on his way to take the train to meet up with some cousins who are visiting for the weekend, and his train is approaching the station. If he sprinted now, he could still make it…  
  
Except he sees Lev pass through the ticket barriers—it’s hard to miss him, he’s as tall as ever and more or less looks the same, only with slightly shorter hair—heading in the same direction at a more leisurely pace, and Yaku’s brain fuzzes out on him and he freaking _dives_ around the corner to _hide_ , startling a poor girl walking by with her dog. He stays hidden there for god knows how many minutes—way too long, definitely. Yaku presses his hands to his mouth and tilts his head back to lean against the wall. His heart is pounding and his chest feels tight, and he knows it has nothing to do with his running.  
  
Where to even begin?  
  
Well, holy shit, it’s painfully obvious that he still likes Lev; nearly three years, and that hasn’t changed. He knows he wouldn’t be hiding like this if he didn’t, which doesn’t _reeeally_ make sense because, well, he’s _hiding_ from someone he really _likes_ , and this makes him feel like he’s in junior high school all over again.  
  
(He hears the announcement of his next train arriving and then departing—he’s _really_ late to meet his cousins.)  
  
What would he even say to him, if he ran after him now? They had hardly ever been the small-talk type, but nothing comes to mind. Volleyball is always a good topic, but too much of it feels like too much of a safe fall-back plan, like a place to hide when they wanted to shy away from something. And Yaku had been hiding for way too long—like right now, _literally_ hiding around this corner at this very moment. Hesitation wasn’t Yaku’s style, and it wasn’t Lev’s, either. And honestly, there’s a lot more that Yaku wants to say to him outside of volleyball…  
  
His feet refuse to move back around the corner.  
  
He’s not quite sure what he’s so scared of, because his friends were right—he’s never really been the scared type. He’s as fearless as a person can get, he rarely hesitates, he’s not one to hide away, so _why the hell was he so scared of taking the first step, and hesitating and hiding?_  
  
How did Lev manage to bring out these sides of him, like taking him apart at the seams? Yaku supposes that Lev always did have an odd sort of pull, like gravity, but he never expected Lev to have _this_ sort of effect on him. No one else he's ever met makes his heart beat this hard, in a way that’s so different from the adrenaline rushes he feels whilst standing on a volleyball court. No one else makes him feel this warm and confused and happy and nervous and slightly terrified all at once.  
  
Another train announcement jolts him out of his thoughts. Yaku sighs softly and finally takes his hands away from his mouth. He really never did get anywhere thinking too much about things, and anyway, he really needed to be speeding over to meet up with his cousins; he had kept them waiting long enough.  
  
( _Kept Lev waiting long enough_ , a little voice whispers in his head. Yaku pushes away from the wall and dashes towards the ticket barriers.)

 

* * *

 

Shortly after graduation from university, Yaku and Kuroo had been invited to a national youth team training camp for an under-23s international volleyball competition, and their chances of being selected to make the final travelling team weren’t bad, either. Kuroo had been a starter for a number of youth team practice matches, and the patient leadership role he so naturally falls into doesn’t hurt. Yaku and the other liberos selected—Karasuno’s Nishinoya amongst them—all have a friendly rivalry going on, and have constantly pushed each other to improve. Yaku feels sharper than he has ever felt.  
  
He had also been invited to and successfully trialled with the local club playing in Japan’s top-tier volleyball league, F.C. Tokyo Volleyball Team, which meant his first contract as a professional player. As a result, he moved out of home and into a tiny apartment in one of the districts of the Koto ward where F.C. Tokyo was based, south of his home ward, Sumida. For the first two weeks, his family (and Kuroo and Kai) kept stopping by with food to make sure his kitchen was well-stocked until he had to remind each person, albeit gratefully, that he was only living by himself and _look at my fridge, I literally have to wrestle the door closed, I have no space, no, take that tofu with you, I don’t have room for it here!_  
  
Despite these shenanigans, Yaku finds that he doesn’t like the area as much as he had hoped. The volleyball court feels like home more than his apartment does, more than the city does. He thinks about this often.  
  
He wouldn’t go so far as to call this part of the city _soulless_ , but there’s definitely a lack of warmth that he can’t really explain. It doesn’t really make sense; he’s lived in Tokyo all his life, and it’s not like his new place is far from his family home—just fifteen minutes by public transport, give or take—and he’s been around the Koto ward a few times previously, it’s not vastly different from the Sumida ward, it’s not like it’s a completely foreign part of the city. Maybe it’s just because the area is still new to him. Maybe it’s because he’s living alone. It’s something he asks himself often, but can’t ever quite get an answer for—indeed, sometimes he doesn’t even know what he’s asking.  
  
“You’re probably lonely but you won’t admit it,” Kuroo says with all the delicacy of a cat pushing something off a table when he and Yaku are leaving a local gymnasium after some extra late-afternoon practice together. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling lonely, you know.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” says Yaku absently, rummaging through his bag for his water bottle.  
  
“Everything you’ve told me about feeling _disconnected_ from your own home,” Kuroo replies. “I’m guessing you’re feeling lonely.”  
  
Yaku finds his bottle and takes a long sip before saying, “I am feeling no such thing. I’m just getting used to the place.”  
  
“You’ve been living here for nearly three months, Yaku.”  
  
“That’s not a long time.”  
  
Kuroo sighs in that somewhat infuriatingly knowing way he sometimes does—it hasn’t changed in all the years Yaku has known him—and says, “Typical.”  
  
Yaku squints up at him. “Huh?”  
  
“You’re a libero through-and-through,” Kuroo says simply, stretching his arms over his head. “You’re probably the most _libero_ libero to have ever libero’d–”  
  
“I’m going to throw this at you, Kuroo–”  
  
“–by which I mean I think you’re so used to people counting on you, that when it comes to you counting on other people, you’re not sure what to do. I kind of thought you might grow out of it after high school, but nope, you’re still a libero, with one-hundred percent libero mentality–” Yaku raises his bottle threateningly, but Kuroo just grins and asks, “Do you still like Lev?”  
  
Yaku freezes. “I-I’m… that… it– wh–”  
  
“I’m taking that as a yes,” says Kuroo. “Stop waving your bottle at me.”  
  
Yaku shoves his bottle back into his bag, making sure to zip it up with an unnecessary amount of care so as to avoid looking at Kuroo, because he is pretty sure his face is fire engine red right now. He also knows this time-wasting is useless, because Kuroo always just _knows_.  
  
“Have you actually met up with him since high school?”  
  
“Uh.” Yaku straightens up and clears his throat. “I saw him at a train station… a few months ago now? He was walking ahead of me–”  
  
“And I’m guessing you didn’t speak to him.”  
  
“I was so surprised, I hid around the corner.” Yaku groans and jams his palms against his eyes when Kuroo gives a loud and sudden _HA!_ of laughter. “ _Okay_ , I _know_ , I _know_ , I’m _hopeless_ , Kuroo. This isn’t like me at all, what the heck!”  
  
“Ah, youth,” says Kuroo with a happy sigh. “So refreshing. Young love– _ow!_ ”  
  
Yaku elbows him sharply in the ribs. “You’re not helping, rooster-head!”  
  
“Fine, fine.”  
  
There is a long pause during which Kuroo makes quiet humming noises as he gathers his thoughts. Despite whatever grief his friends give him about, well, _almost everything_ , Kuroo has a tendency to drop rather good wisdom-bombs whenever they are needed, and Yaku feels he could really use one right now.  
  
“Well… there’s the whole _libero mentality_ thing you’ve got,” says Kuroo at last, slowly, “but I think there _is_ the added fact that you’re two years ahead of him, so you probably feel like you have to put up a strong front around him all the time, as a senior. You probably got used to that… you feel like you can’t let yourself be _uncool_ , am I right?”  
  
When Yaku doesn’t reply, staring hard at the ground, Kuroo digs a much more gentle and knowing elbow into his side.  
  
“But what’s wrong with being _uncool_ every now and then and letting your guard down a little?” Kuroo continues with a shrug. “What’s wrong with trying to let yourself be happy?”  
  
_Happy_.  
  
Yaku thinks about Lev’s stupidly bright and endearingly cheeky grin; his light-heartedly teasing; that constant undying belief in Yaku, which often felt like bolts of adrenaline during a match; that presence he was slowly working to command on the court which sometimes left people breathless; sitting next to Lev during the quieter moments, that familiarity, that warmth, that _life_ …  
  
_Oh_.  
  
“Or… do you think you wouldn’t be happy with him?”  
  
“That’s not it at all,” says Yaku quickly.  
  
“So, then…?”  
  
There is another long pause. Kuroo nudges him again. “You’ve liked him for, what, nearly four years now? And that apparently hasn’t changed?” He smiles slightly, exasperatedly, and Yaku can’t keep a huff of a defeated laugh from escaping his mouth. “Look, living in a new area for three months, I get not being able to settle in yet. But four years? That’s not a short amount of time, Yaku. Don’t you think that means something?”  
  
“It does,” says Yaku. “It really does.” And then, “I think you might be right.”  
  
“I know Kai and I keep saying that what you do is up to you, but can I offer a suggestion?”  
  
Yaku looks up at him and raises his eyebrows, fully knowing what he wants to say, knowing he should listen to Kuroo this time and that Kai would agree, knowing this piece of advice has been a long time coming.  
  
“Stop trying to be so cool. Tell him,” says Kuroo quietly.  
  
They walk without speaking for a short while, surrounded by the sounds of the streets filled with people making their way home from work or school. Kuroo whistles the tune of a song circulating the radio stations lately that Yaku can’t remember the name of, but it’s an upbeat and energetic song and it reminds him a little of Lev.  
  
“Feelings are so troublesome,” says Yaku at last with a sigh. Kuroo snickers.  
  
“You said that about Lev, ages ago,” he says.  
  
“Look at me now.”  
  
“Look at you now.”  
  
They reach the corner where they split off; Yaku needs to make a right to head back to his apartment, and Kuroo would keep going straight ahead to get to his train station. They nudge each other amicably and say their goodbyes for the day, mingled with suggestions to catch up with Kai for lunch in the following week. Yaku watches Kuroo stroll down the street, still whistling that tune. He stays at that corner long after he has left.

 

* * *

 

During his free time over the next couple of days, Yaku runs scenarios in his head of him confessing his feelings ( _urrgghh, feelings_ ) to Lev. Unfortunately, most of these scenarios end with him saying something sappy, like lines out of a bad shoujo manga, and then dashing away in embarrassment. The few scenarios that don’t turn this way usually end with him and Lev standing there, staring at each other, and then asking, ‘ _Now what?_ ’  
  
Luckily for him, he doesn’t _have_ a lot of free time, thanks to hours of training with F.C. Tokyo Volleyball Team, going to the gym, and casual job-hunting because extra funds never hurt. _The Moment_ will arrive soon, though; he’s got a rare free day this coming Friday, and he swears to himself that he will work up the courage to call Lev and… and… and god knows what next, but he knows from experience that overthinking things was no good for him, so he leaves it at that.  
  
Friday comes. It’s a cool morning right in the middle of April, and Yaku has just treated himself to breakfast at the soba store down the street and is walking back to his apartment. As usual, the streets are neither quiet nor lively, and it’s an odd place to be; Yaku thinks he’ll never get used to this—to this borderline soullessness, this sort of _loneliness_ , to this place that still doesn’t quite feel like home, like something is _missing_.  
  
Well, lucky for him he doesn’t have a lot of free time to think about it, he supposes with a little sigh.  
  
Yaku’s apartment is just a few blocks away now, and as his fingers clench around his phone in his pocket, he feels a swoop of anticipation in his stomach. He had told himself he would call Lev when he got back—whether to confess over the phone or to suggest that they meet face-to-face, he hasn’t decided yet—and this makes him feel more nervous than his trial with F.C. Tokyo had. Those ridiculous confession scenarios are running through his mind again, now more reminiscent of a cheesy TV drama scene he had unwittingly watched on one of the screens at the gym yesterd–  
  
“ _YAKU-SAAAAAN!_ ”  
  
All those scenarios fly out of his head the moment he hears his name being bellowed from somewhere down the street by an excitedly loud and incredibly familiar voice. He whips around, heart pounding in his chest like it’s about to burst—from joy, from nerves, from… _who knows?_ —just in time to see a mass of red engulf him in a crushing hug, like a whirlwind, a firework, a burst of sound and colour amongst the grey of the streets…  
  
And suddenly, the city doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.  
  
“Dammit Lev, you don’t just yell out people’s names like that in the street! And you’re disturbing everyone else! Keep your volume down, can’t you? You’re not a high-schooler anymore! And what are you even doing here?”  
  
He says all this, but he hugs Lev back as he does. His fingers grip a fistful of his oversized, long, almost-exactly-Nekoma-red jacket and he holds on—to the way Lev feels, to his voice, to this warmth, _to this second chance_ –  
  
“I was going to buy some school supplies near here!” says Lev, pulling away a little and looking down at him happily. “I moved in with my sister last month and she lives nearby and it’s closer to my university. I’m starting the first semester of my second year!”  
  
“Second year,” Yaku repeats. “Holy shit, it’s been so long.”  
  
Lev nods eagerly. “I’m on my university’s volleyball team!” he continues. “I’m not a regular yet, but I made it on the bench for the past two practice matches, and I was subbed on late for the last one!”  
  
“Of course you were,” says Yaku, and he’s smiling now, proudly and warmly. “You came from Nekoma—of course you were.”  
  
_Nekoma_. Playing on the volleyball team like one beautifully functioning unit; hours of studying and meeting friends; training camps and tournaments and wins and defeats; the places he and his friends and teammates would frequent after school or practice which he would remember on the bus to and from home…  
  
Meeting Lev. Watching Lev grow as a volleyball player. That bright and endearing grin, that unwavering belief in Yaku, sitting next to each other and sharing quieter moments. Graduating. It all just seemed like a lifetime ago.  
  
“Yaku-san… you didn’t come to visit,” says Lev slowly, now blinking at Yaku in a way that’s not quite accusatory, but not free from disappointment, either. “Nekoma, I mean. Kuroo-san and Kai-san visited when they were in uni—even Kenma-san visited after he graduated—but you never did.”  
  
“I… was busy,” Yaku says, for lack of anything else. It’s mostly true, but it’s never felt like a flimsier excuse.  
  
“I practised really hard to get better! Even Kenma-san said that my blocks ‘weren’t as crappy as they used to be’, and you know that’s _incredible_ praise coming from him. I really wanted to show you how much I had improved.”  
  
“I know,” says Yaku quietly.  
  
It doesn’t escape his attention that they haven’t fully let go of each other ever since hugging, nor does it escape his attention that he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off Lev. He’s about an inch taller than his Nekoma days but Yaku has grown about two inches since then, and doesn’t have to strain so hard to look up at him. Lev’s hair is about the same length as when Yaku saw him at the train station, and it suits him well. He looks good, sturdier, fresher, and Yaku feels his heartbeat speed up again. Somehow there’s now so much _colour_ , so much _life_ and _warmth_ in this place, and Yaku finds himself never wanting to let go of this if he could help it. His fingers clench a little tighter around his fistfuls of Lev’s jacket, like he’s afraid that Lev will disappear the moment his grip is too loose.  
  
“Tell me more about Nekoma,” he says. He’s heard enough from Kuroo and Kai to know what it was like after they left, but he wants to hear it from Lev.  
  
“We were still awesome!” Lev replies. “I mean, it took us a while to get used to things after you third years were gone, but a lot of what you all taught us stayed with us, and we got used to it. The new first years were really scared of Taketora-san at first, but they found out he was a huge softie _really_ quickly. I think they were actually more scared of Kenma-san. And Shibayama and I were a great team! He didn’t yell at me as much as you did.” He squawks as Yaku jabs him lightly in the ribs. “And I became the ace in my third year! My spikes scored us a lot of points.”  
  
“You’re a _middle blocker_ , Lev,” says Yaku exasperatedly, but he has a smile on his face  
  
“My blocks were good too—I remembered a lot of what Kuroo-san taught me. I’m not kidding, I really did improve!”  
  
“I know,” Yaku says again.  
  
“What about you, Yaku-san? Taketora-san’s little sister said something about you joining a Tokyo team after uni…”  
  
“Oh… yeah, it’s true. I play for F.C. Tokyo’s volleyball team now; it’s why I moved down here. I only just joined this year, but training’s been going well, and we’re starting the season soon. We’re not ranked very high right now, but we’re definitely going to change that.”  
  
“Of course you will,” says Lev. He’s looking at Yaku like it isn’t even a question or being able to or not, and Yaku feels a little jolt in his chest.  
  
“Lev–”  
  
“You know, it’s–” Lev clears his throat and looks away from him for the first time today. “I know it’s been a long time, but I’m really happy to see you, Yaku-san.”  
  
The little jolt turns into a warm feeling. “That’s… yeah. Yeah, I’m happy to see you too, Lev,” says Yaku.  
  
“Really?”  
  
Yaku blinks. “What do you mean, ‘really’? That’s not a surprise, is it?”  
  
“It’s… well…”  
  
“Lev.”  
  
“It’s just… in the weeks leading up to your graduation, I realised that I really didn’t want you to go,” says Lev. “But it wasn’t like I could make you stay, so…” He shrugs uncomfortably. “I really wanted to say something, but I just couldn’t think of anything. And then, you… when you didn’t come to visit, I actually thought I did something wrong. More than usual, anyway.”  
  
Yaku swats his arm. “It’s nothing like that. I really was busy.”  
  
“I kinda figured,” says Lev with an uncertain nod. “Kuroo-san and Kai-san always told me that too, and when Kai-san told me you were already a benchwarmer libero in your first year, it made sense—you were just training a lot and too busy to stop by! So I was happy to hear that. But I guess I… still really wanted to see you again. Isn’t that selfish of me?”  
  
“No,” says Yaku without hesitation. “That’s not selfish, Lev. Honestly, I’m the one who’s been selfish here.”  
  
“Yaku-san?”  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t visit,” says Yaku quietly. “I should’ve said something.”  
  
Lev’s face brightens—much how he used to whenever someone used to compliment him for a decent spike in volleyball, and Yaku feels as though a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “It’s okay! It’s no problem, as long as everything’s okay.”  
  
“Everything’s fine,” says Yaku. “Everything’s fine, now. Thank you.”  
  
“Yaku-san?”  
  
“I’ve been running away a lot for a long time, but… I’m not going to do that anymore.” Yaku shakes his head. “It’s fine, now.”  
  
“Well, whatever it is, I know you’ll stand back up from it,” says Lev, bemusedly. “That’s always been the case, right?”  
  
“Yeah… yeah, that’s right.” Yaku’s expression softens, and he smiles and says, “Hey, Lev, are you busy right now? Let’s go get coffee if you have time. I think we have a lot to catch up on.”  
  
Lev’s eyes widen and his face brightens again, and Yaku knows that he’ll never, ever get tired of seeing that. “Okay! You can tell me about everything! Like F.C. Tokyo and about the competitions you and Kuroo-san played in and… non-volleyball stuff! I know a place near here that does great coffee and pastries, and down that street, there’s a place that does _really_ amazing ramen, even better than the one Kai-san used to take us to! And there’s a bakery that…”  
  
He rambles on and on about all the places they could go to as he grabs Yaku by the elbow and drags him down the street. His hand slips a little and slides down Yaku’s arm and–  
  
( _–been running away for a long time..._ )  
  
Yaku takes his hand and laces their fingers together, like perfect fitting puzzle pieces, like making up for what felt like a lifetime of missed chances.  
  
Lev stiffens in surprise, just briefly, before his shoulders relax and he squeezes Yaku’s hand and slows down his pace ever so slightly so that Yaku falls into step beside him, and they jostle each other a little, and it’s a familiar and warm weight. Lev is beaming into the collar of his jacket and his ears are a little pink, and Yaku can’t bring himself to comment on it, but he understands completely. He feels like bursting into laughter for the first time since moving here, and it’s something he can’t really find the right words for, but it all feels so wonderfully _free_.  
  
And finally, finally, this part of the city feels like home.  


* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (belated) birthday, Aetherdrive my dude!! I'm so sorry this is so late also I kept going astray from your original prompt ahahaaaAAA but I hope you still enjoyed it. You inspire me to do better and to be better, and the world is a better place because you're still here and kicking.
> 
> Happy birthday, my friend. Here's to many more.


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